From the manuscript of an unsusccessful novel,
that now occupies, in my memory, a rather narrow hovel:
You murdered someone. Yet, you continue to live---
imprisoned for life, no death penalty
(although its legal availability
was there; the judge's choice mystifies me).
Perhaps, though, one of your neighbors will give
a sudden shove to a well-sharpened shiv,
and launch your soul into the hell of agony
in which it will spend its entire eternity.
Starward
Author's Notes/Comments:
For the sake of prudence, I should admit that this is a fragment from a novel I attempted during my adolescence, sometime between summer of 1971 and October 12th, 1975. Working on the conclusion first, the poet-detective in my tale solved the murder mystery successfully, but believed the judge had betrayed the case by imposing a life sentence rather than the death penalty. That seemed to be a common experience in our vicinity during the seventies.